


Tous les mêmes

by cuckoopajaro



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, World War II timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5652844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuckoopajaro/pseuds/cuckoopajaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were rules. </p><p>There are always rules with every establishment. </p><p>1. You must never refer to yourself by your given name. </p><p>2. You must never take off your mask. </p><p>3. No photography.</p><p>4. Absolutely no mentioning of anything outside of the house.</p><p>5. Each member can only invite one more person.You will then give them the pin you were entrusted with when you became a member. They will present it when they enter.</p><p>This was how you stay a member.</p><p>This was how to stay at La Chambre des Démons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tous les mêmes

**Author's Note:**

> lets see if i can go through with this lmao

“This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing degree.”

― Edgar Allan Poe, _The Black Cat_

 

“We are all fools in love.”

― Jane Austen _,_ _Pride and Prejud_ _ice_

 

 

 

_Paris, 1937_

On the first day she thinks nothing of it.

 

Many of them have come and gone. Enthralled by the aroma of sweets that seems to flutter out the front door. She leaves a bowl of milk and quickly returns her attention to the pondering customer.

 

On the second occurrence the black cat returns, she figures it is only a small coincidence.

 

Alya mockingly comments that it is a sign, the price of chocolate will skyrocket and the éclairs will burn. She laughs at her friend’s antics and this time offers the feline a dab of _Brie de Meaux_ , a dollop offering on the tip of her slim finger. The cat refuses.

 

Bringing her fingertip to her mouth, suckling, she leaves shortly only to return bringing a small slice of Camembert. The cat is more than happy this time to take the offering off her hand.

 

There is a third visit, then a fourth, then a fifth, then Marinette loses count.

 

“I thought you hated cats, Mari.” Alya drawls. Marinette guesses by how her arms are covered in flour, the white powder a stark contrast against her tan skin, that Alya has finished kneading the dough needed for their boules. Alya smirks, carefully reaching up with snowy hands to push up her glasses. She miscalculates and smudges the lens.

 

Cursing under her breath she reaches up, grabbing the temples and using her apron in attempt to wipe the frosty lenses. “Considering you nearly have a heart attack every time there’s four of anything, I would’ve thought you would burn this place to the ground and forced us to move somewhere else when that cat first got here”

 

Marinette laughs, sitting on the floor behind the counter where she is accompanied by said cat. Pretty manicured oval nails gently rubbing behind the ears, dragging down to rub underneath the chin and repeat. The cat purrs contentedly, tail swishing to and fro.

“Just because I’m not _enamored_ by kitty cats doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them. And besides I can make small acceptations.”

 

Alya hums. Raising her spectacles to the air, inspecting them once, twice, seeming satisfied then placing them back to her face. The smirk returns accompanied by a roll of the eyes.

 

“Of course Marinette. However I thought you all about superstitions. And here you are _canoodling_ with a black cat as if it pledged its everlasting love to you. I believe you always wanted a spring wedding right?” At this Marinette outright guffaws.

 

“For one, I am not canoodling. And second what was I to do? The poor thing looked hungry.” Marinette defends. The cat mewls as if agreeing. Marinette stops her ministrations, earning a noise of protest, and pushes herself up. Alya’s comical remark was true in the first bit. Marinette did have a record of being cautious on certain things.

 

She always made sure to have eight samples of every pastry and bread in the glass display. She practically begged Alya, when they were first looking for possible property for the bakery, not to chose one that faced north. And no matter what the occasion was she always wore something red. Alya would admit it was ridiculous but she couldn’t deny that the girl was probably the luckiest girl she’d met.

 

Not to mention lovely. With black long hair, a petite yet strong physique from all the heavy lifting of bags of flour, button nose, and blue eyes, Alya would always tease that the customers always came not only for the sweet treats.

 

Alya also drunkenly admitted once to Marinette having quote, “A very cute ass.”

 

Marinette brushes off her black trousers, and adjusts her white button up dress shirt. There’s a red ribbon tied on the wrist of her right hand. She unties it and deftly ties her long inky hair in a high ponytail. She walks to the glass display finger poised mid air as she counts each pastry.

 

Eight custard tarts, eight éclairs, eight profiteroles, four palmiers.

 

Marinette pales.

 

“Alya do you think we could-“

 

“Already made the batch and placed some in the oven while you and your feline husband were debating the name of your children. They should be ready soon.”

 

Ignoring part of her friend’s comment, as this seems to be a routine for them now, Marinette bounds to where Alya stands and embraces her. “You are an angel.”Alya smiles swinging an arm around the half Chinese half French girl as she breaks the embrace.

 

“I know I am, but Marinette seriously the cat has to leave right now. We only have,” Alya cranes her neck to gaze at the clock behind them, “less than half an hour before we open up, we still need to make those palmiers unless you want death at our doorstep, Kubdel is coming today to receive her cake, and you wouldn’t want another surprise visit from our dear Ms. Mendeleiev now would you?” Alya arches a rounded brow, the mole that is perched above looks as if it is going to rocket from her face.

 

Marinette shudders. Ms. Mendeleiev was their lovely health inspector. Their last visit consisted of snide remarks on Mendeleiev’s behalf and a few muttered of Alya’s own. Marinette’s personal favorite being when Alya mumbled how Mendeleiev’s sharp nose could deflate a soufflé it if sniffed the air within ten feet of it.

 

Deflating, much like the imaginary soufflé, Marinette sighs and picks up the cat that was in the process of rubbing affectionately against her legs. Cradling it, she passes through the waist-high double doors that separate the ‘lounge’ of the bakery and behind the counter. The ‘lounge’, as it is called once one enters, only consists of two wooden tables each with two chairs. No one really stayed more than they needed to but Marinette insisted they had _some_ furnishing even if it was plain.

 

“Sorry kitty but you have to go home now,” Marinette traces the bell on the collar of the black cat, it chimes lightly, “Besides your owner must be-“

 

“There you are!”

 

The noise that erupts from Marinette surprises both her and the feline curled in her embrace. Alya barely manages to capture the glass bowl that slipped from her grasp. She spins quickly on her heel, about to bark at whoever barged in that they weren’t due to open till later. However Alya stops short as she takes a glance at who stands at the door, and more importantly how Marinette looks as stiff as stone. Alya almost rushes over to see if she’s still breathing.

 

The “intruder” stands by the front entrance, a palm on the door that was just slammed open. The ringing of the bell lingers in Alya’s ears as she takes in the young man’s appearance. Takes in his neatly combed back fair hair, the contrast of the flush against his ivory complexion, his attire of a clean pressed navy suit, a white handkerchief in the right breast pocket. As he makes his way to Marinette, taking swift long strides, Alya notices he is a good head taller than the girl. The perpetual grin on the young man holds a childlike charm, genuine, as if Marinette was a childhood friend he decided to visit.

 

‘He’s handsome,’ Alya remarks to herself. As she glances over to Marinette and sees the rising color on the girl’s cheeks that seems to be competing with the young man’s own blush from the cold outside, it would seem Marinette wasn’t lost to the fact.

 

“Excuse me _mademoiselle_.” He’s still smiling and his chest is heaving slightly, as though he ran miles. Somehow Marinette feels just as breathless. He stands straighter and tosses an apologetic glance to Alya, he speaks again.

 

“I’m so sorry to just have barged in, but I’m afraid that _he_ ,” the young man clasps his hands together, index fingers pointed towards the cat still in Marinette’s hold, “belongs to me.” He stares at Marinette now.

 

Unknown to both, it would only be hours before those striking green and baby blue would make contact again.

 

After what seems an eternity of pin drop silence Marinette speaks,

 

“Oh.”

 

The young man smile never fades and only softens as he cocks his head and raises an eyebrow slightly.

 

Alya makes a noise that can be classified as a mix of a snort and a cough.

 

The black cat blinks lazily.

 

“Oh!” Marinette forces, louder this time, “I’m so sorry! I had no idea, I mean to say he had a collar so I knew he belonged to someone but I had no idea who. He came everyday, I only gave him a few treats I hope you don’t mind.” The more Marinette spoke, the more she felt her words were slurring. Slotting together like puzzle pieces and yet even she couldn’t understand what she was coming to. She handed over the cat, mind delighting over the brush of their hands.

 

“So this is where you’ve been running off to!” He cradles the cat yet his expression has turned stern. But with his boyish appearance there seems no malice in his mien. “And begging for food as well! Plagg you know better.” Plagg only purrs in response. The boy clicks his tongue and returns his gaze to Marinette. The smile returns. Marinette’s mouth runs dry.

 

“I’m so very sorry, he’s been running out of the house recently and I never knew where he goes. Coming here as if we don’t feed him _enough_ at home. I hope he wasn’t a bother, um…” His smile turns contrite, his eyes are silently pleading.

 

“Marinette!” Marinette practically shouts. Another repressed laugh elicited from behind the counter. Marinette whips her head to glare at her best friend but she has retreated to the kitchen. She returns her attention to the young man again, giving a bashful grin, tucking a strand of hair behind her glowing ear. “It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

 

Marinette believes it impossible for a smile to be this beautiful but it widens a fraction and that’s all she needs to see this man harvests the sun’s light at the twitch of the lips.

 

“Adrien.” He reaches out a hand to shake hers. A stiff awkward shake. “Adrien Agreste.” The hand returns to cradle Plagg. Marinette’s own dangle at her sides, unsure how to position them.

 

“What a freeloader you are.” Adrien returns to scolding the cat. “Please allow me to at least repay you for the trouble of watching over him.” Adrien sets the cat down and Marinette flaps her hands frantically.

 

“No, no, no please it was no trouble at all-“

 

“Ha! Nonsense! This cat is bad luck incarnate. If you could only see the trouble he stirs at home.” Adrien reaches for his wallet but stops abruptly as he takes in Marinette’s panicked expression. Tapping a finger to his lips, Adrien’s face flashes quickly as he thinks of an alternative. “Very well, I’ll just pay for a pastry. Running around Paris for him really worked up an appetite.”

 

He makes a show of patting his stomach eliciting a giggle from the petite girl that he gratefully accepts. Adrien makes his way to the display of pastries, Marinette trailing behind wringing her fingers lightly.

 

“Honestly there was no harm done. You don’t-“

 

“Did you make these?” Adrien interrupts pointing at the pastries. His eyes astonishingly retaining childlike wonder. This childish demeanor he holds is almost, _almost_ , Marinette ruminates, oxymoronic compared to his stature. His broad shoulders, his sharp jawline, his erudite attire, and yet he was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a toddler unable to decide what they would like from a candy store.

 

Marinette mutely nods. Adrien is quick to quit bouncing and chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck.

 

“Stupid question, of course you baked these. You’re the baker after all, there all just look delicious, it’s hard to decide.” Marinette sputters and then blessing whatever entity that gave Alya the cue to walk out of the kitchen at that exact moment.

 

“Four more palmiers done! Here they are Marinette.” Carrying a tray with the pastries, Alya makes her way to the display case. The aroma of the caramelized sugar wafting through the air makes Marinette tear her gaze away from the blonde beauty to see the pastries. It would seem she wasn’t the only one whose attention was caught by the freshly baked goods as Adrien’s face lit up.

 

“That one.” He says immediately, “I would like one palmier please.” He turns to smile at Alya who smirks as she was in the process of placing the palmiers in the display case. Holding the last palmier in the tongs she waves it tauntingly at Adrien in a playful scolding manner.

 

“Must be nice having first pick, considering you chose to barge in before we even opened.”

 

Adrien smiled sheepishly, hand already holding the wallet and fishing for the money. From atop of one of the tables Plagg mews.

 

“Quiet you.” Adrien scolds softly. Placing the money on the counter, Adrien then took the handkerchief from the breast pocket and plucked the treat from the tongs. Striding to the table, he picks up Plagg in the unoccupied hand. He raises the arm with the palmier as soon as he saw Plagg reach with an extended claw. “Oh no, this one’s mine.”

 

Walking towards the door and flashing a final grin at the women, he waves the palmier.

 

“Thank you once again for looking after him. But since he came everyday it seems only fair I return to repay my debts.” Marinette freezes. He would return.

 

“I can’t wait to taste what other treats you make Marinette.” And with that he was out the door and gone.

 

The bakery was quiet save for the ticking of the clock and the expelled breath coming from Marinette. With trembling hands she places them on her cheeks in hopes of cooling them down. Alya laughs, banging the tongs on the counter and grabbing the money.

 

“Looks like the cat dragged in something nice. Maybe black cats aren’t so unlucky after all Mari.”

 

Marinette is thankful that Alya forgot to lock the entrance today before they opened.

 

~

 

Marinette humms along to the trill of the woman’s voice on the radio. Putting the finishing touches on the cake, she steps back and admires her work. The German chocolate cake stands proud on its stand, the coconut-pecan frosting looked delectable, the round crimson maraschino cherries glistened.

 

“Is it done?” Alya came into the kitchen, wiping her hands on the apron.

 

“Come take a look.” Marinette crosses her arms over her chest proudly. Alya admires the cake, hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Is she here already?”

 

“Yup. She’s at the counter, come on.” Marinette beamed. Grabbing the cake, she makes her way to the double doors and exited the kitchen, Alya on her heels.

 

“Happy Birthday Alix!” The two girls exclaim. Alix, who was leaning against the counter staring off into space, jumps at the shout. Her initial expression of surprise was quickly replaced with her trademark wolfish grin.

 

“Marinette, Alya! It looks incredible!” As soon as the cake was placed on the counter Alix reached and plucked a maraschino cherry, popping it into her mouth. Alix recently had a mishap when coloring her hair a few weeks ago. Going for a red tone, the hairdresser made a mistake causing the result to be a pink haired Alix. Her father had gaped. Alix howled with laughter.

 

Swiping a finger and gathering a dab of the frosting, Alix queries, “So how much do I owe you?”

 

“Nothing.” Marinette beams again. The frosted covered finger stops midair. Alix scowls.

 

“Aw come on, I have to pay you girls back.” Marinette shook her head.

 

“Alix it’s fine honestly besides,” Alya’s grin turns teasing as she continues, “Marinette’s darling gave us more than necessary for his purchase so it should cover yours.”

 

Marinette stills as Alix sucked on the finger with the frosting, with an audible pop she releases the polished finger and raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

 

“Oh?” Alix drawled, a sly smile etched on her lips.

 

“It’s not like that!”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“I swear it’s not!”

 

“But weren’t you practically dancing with bliss at the thought of him returning? Hm Mari?” Alya remarks. Her smile mirroring Alix’s amused grin.

 

“W-well yes but, Alya please, did you _see_ him? There’s no way he could- I mean I’m only- Oh Alix if you only saw him. He looked, he looked-“

 

“Handsome?” Alix offered.

 

“ _Beautiful_.” Marinette stated. She sighed as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall.

 

Alix whistles. “Must be a nice piece of ass.”

 

Marinette’s eyes bulged as she gapes at Alix and Alya barks out a laugh at her friend’s crass words.

 

“No but seriously Marinette I wish you the best of luck with this fella, not that you’ll need it. Just,” she breaks off, “just hold on to that giddiness, rely on that happiness when things get shittier.”

 

Alya furrows her brows, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Well shit Alya, I thought you wanted to be a journalist, you haven’t been keeping up with the news? Japan invading China? What’s going on in Germany? The world ain’t doing so good.” Alix sighs and rubs her neck. She takes a big inhale through her nose, exhales deeply out her mouth and continues.

 

“My Pop’s brother lives in Germany and from the letters he sends us they ain’t treating them too good.” She looks at the cake forlornly. “He’s getting worried by the day.” Marinette heart clenches.

 

“Alix-“

 

She surprises both girls by slamming both palms on the counter and raising her head with the same wolfish smile she greeted them with before.

 

“Aw hell, it’s my birthday! I can worry about this later, but for now I got a cake with my name on it made by you two beautiful ladies.” She fishes into her peacoat pocket, whipping out a silver pocket watch. “Besides, look at this watch my Pop’s got for me. Beautiful, no?”

 

Marinette goes along with the set mood, not wanting to create an awkward atmosphere. With awe she traces the engraved designs with a slim finger.

 

“It’s incredible Alix! Just try not to drop it when you go off skating.” Alix was known for being rumbustious.

 

“Not to worry, this jewel is staying somewhere safe at home.” Alix places the watch back in the pocket. Marinette clears her throat and turns to Alya, positively radiating with impatience.

 

“Alya, tell her now.” Marinette mock whispers. Alix face contorts to a puzzled look, but says nothing.

 

Alya turns to looks at the pink haired girl. When the golden eyes pierced through Alix she felt cornered.

 

“Come with me to the kitchen, I have something to tell you.”

 

~

 

Marinette stayed behind the counter to help with any incoming customers. It was almost closing time. The bakery was empty. Marinette heard the doors of the kitchen open.

 

“ _Holy shit_.”

 

“So is that a yes?” Alya probes.

 

“You’re damn right that’s a yes!” Alix all but whispered. She was ecstatic.

 

“Great! We will see you tonight.” Alya claps her back.

 

“Wait.” Alix expression fell. She looked panicked, “I don’t have a costume. How can I-“

 

“I can fix that.” Marinette interjects as she picks the box from the floor behind the display case of pastries. “Here.”

 

Alix took the box gently, as if the box was a glass case. She smirks, “So this is why it took you guys a while to tell me?”

 

Alya places a hand on her shoulder, “So we’ll see you tonight?”

 

“Absolutely.” Alix gathered the present and the cake, which was placed in box thanks to Marinette, and left the bakery, shouting a thanks over her shoulder as she left.

 

“I hope you have something special planned tonight _Ladybug_.” Alya bumped Marinette’s hip with hers. Marinette laughs as she took out the ribbon from her hair, inky hair cascading down her back.

 

“You know I always do.”

 

~

 

There were rules.

 

There are always rules with every establishment.

 

  1. You must never refer to yourself by your given name.



 

  1. You must never take off your mask.



 

  1. No photography.



 

  1. Absolutely no mentioning of anything outside of the house.



 

  1. Each member can only invite one more person. They will then receive the pin you were entrusted with when you became a member.



 

These were how to stay at La Chambre des Démons.

 

~

 

It began at midnight. In the outskirts of Paris of an old abandoned theater house, it began. They came sparsely, and soon the lobby would be full. The servers were akin to ballerinas. Purely white in white leotards, white tulle skirts, white laced up flats.

 

‘The ghosts that dance these halls’ was what Monsieur Papillon had commented once. They wore the _volto_ masks. The lips were painted gold.

 

Members would chatter. Boisterous laughs that would never come out during the day. The only time they were not themselves. Relishing in their mysterious impression. And yet there was the agitated shift of the feet. Stiff sips from their drinks as they waited. Since it was at a quarter after midnight when the performances would begin.

 

In the theater hall stage was where the performances attracted the members like moth to a flame. The main events. Sitting on tattered chairs, they paid no mind as they were entertained.

 

But mostly they waited for her. They waited with champagne breaths and glossed eyes.

 

To see her climb.

 

To see her twist.

 

To see her fall.

 

They were all seated. Patiently waiting. In the audience someone laughed. Someone heckled. Someone shushed harshly. And then the lights dimmed.

 

The stage light shone on the woman with rust colored hair that walked from behind the stage. Wearing a white suit that contrasted her dark skin tone and white gloves she outstretched her arms, palms up. When she spoke her voice boomed across the hall.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow _akumas_ , the woman you all been waiting for.” A pause, a shit eating grin. “Here to perform her aerial silk performance, I give you, _Ladybug!_ ”

 

The woman walks back to behind the stage and then the silk fell from above. Twin translucent powdered blue. The orchestra in the pit below the stage got ready. Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake” was the pick tonight.

 

Ladybug walked onstage. Deliberately slowly, making her way to the silk strands. Back turned to the audience as she grabs the fabric, one in each hand, and wraps the strands around her hands. Once, twice, she took a deep inhale and lifts herself up.

 

The music began.

 

 

Ladybug relished in how she could _feel_ the bated breaths of her audience. Loved their gasps when she dropped suddenly. Twisted in their exclamations of adoration as she spun in the air rapidly. Swam in their anxious looks as she climbed higher and higher.

 

She drops sharply three times as the music swelled. Each drop earning a gasp. The last one she was proud of since it elicited a cry from the crowd.

 

The crescendo was coming, the song was about to end. She prepares herself as she climbs the silk, muscles taut. Deciding the height was high enough, she twists, legs entangle in the material, the audience _waiting_. Then she lets go entirely.

 

Her body twists as she fell and the collective gasp only made her heart thump against her ribs, blood rushing and she beamed. She sees the celling, then the stage floor, again and again in rapid succession.

 

She dangles upside down and once the realization sets in the crowd that the beloved Ladybug fooled them once again they cheer. Ladybug continues to sway upside down. Her vision mostly encased of lights and distorted figures screaming. Her hair was out of its original bun. It brushes the floor with every sway.

 

Using her strength, she hoists herself up, detangling her legs and drops to the stage. Looking at the crowd she waves, her face aching from beaming. She bows once, skillfully dodging a rose that is thrown onstage and walks off.

 

~

 

In her dressing room, Marinette slumps against her chair. She picks at her cherry colored and black dotted leotard and wonders if Alix liked the performance. She was breathing heavily as she stretched out her legs. Sighed satisfactory when something popped.

 

There was another performance right after hers. An act from Shakespeare’s _Hamlet_ , the catch was the actors would have to perform drunk. Marinette giggled, Alix was sure to like that.

 

Lost in thought, Marinette almost dismisses the knocking at the door.

 

“Who’s there?”

 

“Amazing performance as always Ladybug! _Brava_! _Brava_!”

 

Marinette smiles softly, it was Rose. She had broken the first rule when she first introduced herself to Marinette and almost burst to tears when she caught the slip. Marinette promised not to tell. Her name here was Bunny.

 

“Was there something you needed Bunny?”

 

“Oh no no!” Marinette could hear the perpetual smile Rose always held. “There’s someone else who needs you.” Outside the door she giggles. “You have an admirer who says they simply must see you! I tried to convince them not to bother you but they insist.” She giggles again, a soft twinkle.

 

“Alix.” Marinette whispers. She grins widely. “Send them in!”

 

“Very well Ladybug, one moment.” There’s shuffling as Rose leaves.

 

Marinette sits straight in her chair facing her vanity. The room is dark and dimly lit by the candles on the vanity. She ties her hair in a loose bun and goes to readjust her mask. Still facing the mirror, the door opens and shuts softly. Marinette is still deciding to whether or not remove the mask, just for Alix’s sake, when the voice speaks. It’s not Alix.

 

“Hello, my Lady.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ea90L91eZk here's the song for the performance


End file.
